Wahkiakum Poets Corner

Golden Daffodils looking up

holding springtime

like a cup

Warm spring rain

robins singing

in the twilight

Full moon rises

spreading gold

over umber mountains

Beverley Wallace

Grays River

Dad,

I stare at the photo suspended on my wall and see my father’s face.

His bright eyes gazing down at me,

The corners of his mouth slightly lifted; tears filled my eyes.

The fire that burned brightly inside you

had been smothered.

You fought the battle long and hard until all your strength

had been washed away.

I gazed down at him his decaying flesh had melted away,

his eyes glazed over.

He looks up at me his eyes pleading for mercy,

his voice is a raspy whisper.

I lean in closer to try and understand the garbled words

that struggle to escape from his mouth.

“I love you.”

His last breath ripped from his body.

The raging war has come to an end, the battle lost.

Ken Jayne

Cathlamet

The Wild Wet

The wild wet came early this year,

A freight train roaring out of the Pacific,

Crashing and lashing against still yellow trees,

Stripping off every remaining leaf.

Our sleepy slough transformed over night

Into a river of white caps heading westward.

The daily rhythm of tides fell away:

Low was high and high was king.

For two days even the birds vanished.

No chickadees or doves at the feeder;

No geese or ducks bobbing at water’s edge.

A heron sought refuge on a rooftop.

Finally, a quiet night and a bright sunrise.

Two eagles soared in figure-eight pattern —

Lofty choreography with the perfect lift of wing —

A black and white pas de deux of celebration.

Elizabeth S. Johnson

Puget Island